Synopsis of Yearning
by Bonzai-Bunny
Summary: Eduard always considered himself to be one of the lucky ones. Kink meme request fill.


Warning: Sex, craziness, and Russia.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Authoress Note: This was written for the Hetalia kink meme with the request for any of the Baltic States and Russia and Stockholm syndrome. I'm de-anoning because I failed when I posted it and left out a part. D: I apologize for the fucking up of Estonia.

---o0o---

Eduard always considered himself to be one of the lucky ones. The jobs that Ivan gave him often left him isolated in his room, such as accounting, which meant that he often wasn't in the way when Ivan had his---_moments._

That isn't to say that the Estonian had never been in the wrong place at the wrong time---he recalls a time when he was cooking and happened to lift knife the up when he greeted the Russian man; it didn't go well at all---but when those moments came, Eduard was often fortunate enough to not be there.

He knew how to look for certain patterns in Ivan's behavior. If the man was drinking in excess _at all_ it was a good sign to make himself inconspicuous, quiet, forgettable---Eduard was good at being that---and if he actually appeared drunk, well, it was a good time to drop everything he was doing and hole himself up in the library. Inebriated, Ivan often didn't notice that his chores weren't done and Eduard could hurry up and finish them when the man slept or, more often, passed out.

After many nights of this, rather than fear, Eduard strangely began to feel pity. He knew why Ivan drank, to block out the memories and he'd drink more and more, but the memories were always fresh in your mind---the Estonian didn't like to admit it, but he had done the same thing on a few occasions---and he guessed that Ivan was just not meant to handle all of them. Eduard could tell that the man, before his madness, had been gentle and sweet---those personality traits still seeped through occasionally---and simply could not handle his tragic history.

And Ivan _could_ be sweet, Eduard noted. He could be cheerful and amiable during his better days and he used to love children before the death of the Royal family---that was the worst Eduard had ever seen the nation and the worst days he had ever spent in Ivan's house---but now seemed to be wary around them, as though they would die also if he got too close.

It really tugged on heartstrings Eduard didn't know he had. And it wasn't all bad, he told himself. Ivan cared for them, had their best interests in mind even if it wasn't what they thought they wanted. And he never intentionally hurt them, only when he was drunk or frightened.

So Eduard really couldn't understand why his brother left them for America. Didn't he see that Ivan was enough? That the Russian cared for them in his own little way and Ivan actually needed _them_?

Eduard recalled the days after Toris left. It was hectic and neither of the brothers were left unscathed in Ivan's drunken tirades, but Eduard _understood_. Toris was the Russian's favorite after all---Eduard didn't know why, but his chest always clenched a little at the thought---and Ivan was a wreck without him.

So it shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did when he walked into his bedroom one evening and saw Ivan sitting on his bed. The nation looked lost, forlorn, and barely stirred when Eduard entered the room.

"M-Mr. Russia, do you need anything?" Eduard asked, somewhat confused as to why the man was there. He didn't seem to have been drinking and Eduard hadn't seen him all day, so he didn't have any reason to be punished or anything.

Ivan looked up, somewhat confused like he really didn't know why he was there, and nodded slowly.

"He's gone, Eesti…" Ivan murmured and Eduard's heart sped up, hearing his country's name with the Russian tongue.

"Are you going to leave me too?"

Eduard swallowed and shook his head. "No, sir. Never."

And as he said that, he couldn't help but realize that it was true. He wouldn't dare leave the larger nation, especially not at a time like this. Ivan meant too much to him.

The other nation didn't respond, so Eduard moved closer until he was kneeling in front of the giant. And upon getting closer, Eduard realized that the other nation was intoxicated---his flushed cheeks and glazed eyes gave him away---it was dangerous, he knew, but his chest hurt so much at the thought of Ivan in pain.

Eduard cupped Ivan's face, forcing the nation to look at him (What was he doing? He had never been this bold) and asked,

"What can I do, Mr. Russia? I want---I want to help."

Something seemed to spark in Ivan's eyes and he nodded before leaning in and pressing his lips against the Estonian's.

Eduard's heart fluttered rapidly---he-Ivan was kissing him!

He kissed back, his glasses sliding off of his nose and bumping against the other male in his haste. Ivan giggled softly and plucked the blonde's glasses off, quickly going into that manic state that Eduard had always warned himself about---that when Ivan was like this and drunk, he would only get hurt---but he could not find it in him to stop this and leave.

Eduard shivered when the man wrapped his arms around him, embracing him in his warmth and shrieked when Ivan picked him up as though he didn't weigh a thing and set him down on his bed.

"M-Mr. Russia--!?" he cried, startled, only to have his lips attacked with more fervor and he definitely tasted alcohol on the larger country's tongue. Eduard groaned into the kiss ('What are you doing!' His inner self screamed) and wrapped his arms around a now scarf-less Ivan. He didn't realize how much he wanted this, and he could barely believe it was happening.

Eduard was happy, ecstatic, and incredibly hard by the time Ivan reached down to unbuckle his belt. Which only made it hurt like a punch to the gut when Ivan pressed his lips to the Estonian's stomach and whispered,

"_Lithuania_."

Oh. Of course. He should have known. It was like an off-key note that made his mood go sour.

Ivan didn't really see him there, trapped in his own boozy, delusional fog. This attention wasn't because Ivan really wanted to do this with him---him, feeling special for once---it was because he was hurting over the loss of his brother.

Well---Well, Eduard wasn't going to let that get to him. He would enjoy himself, because this was Ivan who was touching him, licking him, and pleasing him and he could pretend too. He could pretend Ivan loved him as much as he loved Ivan and he kept repeating that mantra in his head until he believed it.

So it didn't bother him at all when Ivan slid down his pants and underwear, probably thinking he was Toris. No, he was the only one in the Russian's violet eyes and the only one who deserved to be touched like this.

He groaned when a finger, lube-less, entered him partially from pain but--- he was going to finally become one with Ivan; he would be safe and loved.

He didn't mind the pain so much, but another finger was added and another and Eduard bit his lip to the point of bleeding to keep from crying out. It was supposed to hurt a little in the beginning; he knew that, no problem, so he wouldn't make a noise of complaint lest Ivan suddenly turn on him, because as much as Eduard liked to say he had everything figured out, the Russian was very unpredictable.

Ivan pulled his fingers out and smiled, pumping himself to full erectness.

"I'm so glad you're here," he sighed happily and Eduard didn't bother to think that the comment wasn't meant for him. He felt too cherished, too happy.

"M-me too."

And then Ivan pushed in and Eduard clenched his eyes shut, having never felt such mind numbing pain before. Tears were forming in them and when he opened his eyes again (Ivan had stopped moving), the liquid freely fell down his cheeks. He was glad his glasses were absent so they didn't fog up.

"It's alright," the larger nation cooed and kissed the tears away, gently, and Eduard could almost believe that it was. But he had done it---they were together, whether Ivan realized it or not.

Then Ivan started moving and the Estonian choked back a sob, pained. It felt like his lower back was on fire, like he was being split from the inside-out, but it didn't matter, because the Russian was looking at him so sweetly, like he would never harm him again and they would love each other forever.

So he tried to block out the pain (burning, agony) and focus on the happiness of the moment. Not on how he knew his brothers would turn up their noses when they found out he did this, but they wouldn't understand his need for this. _He_ didn't fully understand his need for this, but he just knew that he wanted Ivan and needed him like he hoped the nation needed him.

So he could ignore the pain, because he knew Ivan wouldn't hurt him intentionally and he felt a sort of euphoria when the Russian came and groaned,

"_I love you_," before pulling out, leaving Eduard half-hard and bleeding.

And the Estonian barely cared about his half-aroused state because Ivan was smiling down at him, stroking back his blonde hair, and mussing up his bangs.

"You'll always be my favorite," Ivan whispered, smiling, and Eduard didn't care (nor did it particularly cross his mind) that the statement wasn't directed towards him, and he still felt the burning pain of being penetrated.

He grinned happily into his pillow, ignoring the blood that might shame him come morning time, which he would still have to clean from his sheets. In the moment, he was positively gleeful.

He was Ivan's _favorite_.

---o0o---

Authoress Note: -waits to be pelted with rocks by angry Estonians- Uh…review?


End file.
